


Andromeda

by alswl



Series: Humanz [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Diners, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comedy, M/M, Mystery, Romance, inspired by riverdale!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-08 14:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14107446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alswl/pseuds/alswl
Summary: Chan just wants his freshman year to be relatively peaceful, but he gets much more than what he signed up for only a few weeks into college: a complex web of upperclassmen who are somehow all friends with each other and all clamoring to be his best friend, a sassy, loudmouth confidant who already proclaimed herself to be his best friend, and, worst (best?) of all, a mystery involving the murder of a popular football player.





	Andromeda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Delay is the deadliest form of denial._  
>  C. Northcote Parkinson

“Mom, it’s just four months,” Chan sighs, awkwardly patting his mother on the back as she clings to his arm.

“Our Channie is all grown up now,” she sniffles, her younger brother digging in her bag for a wad of Kleenex and offering it to her. She accepts, dabbing at her eyes before blowing her nose.

Chan sighs again, fiddling with the straps of his backpack. Why did she have to be so dramatic? His house is literally 30 minutes away from the college; as bad as he feels for thinking so, Chan is secretly grateful for the rule that on-campus housing is mandatory for first years.

But now his biggest worry is his parents calling him every day and asking if he needs anything. There’s only so much Chan can do to prevent his parents from sending him a huge box of microwaveable rice bowls and homemade kimchi.

_Are you eating well? Are you sleeping well? Are you making friends? Do you want the black bomber jacket from Urban Outfitters you love so much? Call if you need anything, okay?_

Chan snaps back to the present’s concerns when he feels his mom tug on his sleeve.

“When you get out of your hall meeting, call me,” she says tearfully. More out of pity than out of filial piety, Chan nods and gives his mom, dad, and brother one last hug before he begins to lug his suitcases over to the dormitory building.

The building is nothing too remarkable. Four stories high, Pratt Park is a light gray, squarish structure with a seemingly countless amount of windows that bears a resemblance more to an assortment of ice cube trays than to a dormitory for first years. Winner of several architectural awards, his foot. It was the laughingstock of the student body’s college meme page. And almost a dungeon. _Almost_. Chan isn’t that dramatic. He was lucky enough to end up in the only dormitory that included a dining hall on the first floor, after all.

Out of gratitude to that fact alone, he decides that his home for the year is _interesting._

“Looks like a prison, huh?” Chan turns around to face a girl eyeing him curiously before returning her gaze to the building. Dyed a platinum blonde, her chin-length bobbed hair is messy and tangled and clearly has undergone a variety of hair color treatments. Her baggy jeans are a faded light blue that complements her white ankle socks and white Nikes.

“Yeah, I feel that. Wig,” she continues, beaming at him as she adjusts her pink baseball cap before sticking her hand out to shake. “Yerim’s the name.”

Wig? Chan decides not to question it. “Chan,” he replies, shaking her hand and relieved that his hand isn’t sweaty. “You a freshman, too?”

Yerim nods in response. “I’m stoked to be living here for the year,” she said sarcastically, beginning to tug her suitcases over to the front doors. “You think they’ll have us change into black and white striped uniforms once we check in?"

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Chan says, propping one door open with his foot and gesturing for Yerim to go in ahead. Shooting him a smile of thanks, she drags her two suitcases in, the back wheels of the smaller one running right over Chan’s toes.

“Oh Lord Almighty,” Yerim gasps in horror as Chan lets out a yelp and almost drops his own suitcases. “I am so, so sorry - um, are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Chan shakes his head, though his pained facial expression screams otherwise.

“Alright, then… Onwards!” Yerim says cheerfully, barreling towards the check-in desks at full speed and leaving Chan behind. “Sorry about your foot!”

 _My toes_ , he thinks sadly. Crying sounds like a nice option right now.

Chan is surprised that the lobby isn’t chock full of first years and their families already. This is one of the rare instances Chan has ever been this early to something. No, Chan’s not the kind of person to show up late to things because that’s just plain irresponsible - and the last thing Chan is is irresponsible, mind you - but finding the lobby quiet and the check-in tables unoccupied was definitely something he had not planned in advance for. Is he unhappy about it? Of course not.

It’s almost like – pardon the cliché – the calm before the storm. Other than the eventual surge of almost a thousand first years crowding the lobby and exchanging tearful farewells with their families on their own time, Chan has no idea what to expect for his freshman year – or college, in general. He’s the first from his family to go to college in America, so there are going to be a lot of firsts for Chan. God, filling out the financial aid application by himself was difficult enough. He shudders at the thought of eventually having to file _taxes_ by himself. Being an adult sounds scary as hell.

“Last name, please?” an upperclassman sitting behind the check-in table asks, jolting Chan out of his thoughts.

“Um, Lee.”

“First?”

“Chan. C-h-a-n.”

The upperclassman checks off Chan’s name on a spreadsheet before leaning over to the box of manila folders sitting on the table and rummaging through the folders in the section labeled “L,” taking several seconds to pull out a folder titled “Welcome to Orientation!” and holding it out to Chan.

“That folder contains a map of the school, a list of important people and their contact information, your dorm assignment and room code, and meal tickets for the dining hall if you have guests for the day,” the upperclassman explains as Chan leafs through the sheets in the folder. “You’ll be getting your picture taken tomorrow for your school ID, so don’t worry about that for now.”

Chan thanks him, carefully placing the folder into his backpack and pulling his suitcases along in the direction of the elevators.

“Chan, hurry up!” Yerim calls from afar in front of the elevators, violently waving at him. Damn, how long had she been waiting for him after checking in?

“Hey, _you_ ditched me,” he jokes.

“Not my fault you’re so slow,” she shoots back playfully, stepping forward to press the “up” button. Chan decides he likes Yerim so far.

“What floor?” he asks, silently hoping they’re in the same hall. Chan’s not sure if he has enough energy to make a friend for the second time; the ideal situation is being hallmates with Yerim so he can tag along with her wherever she goes and not have to wander anywhere alone.

“Seventh! You?”

“Me too. How about your hall?”

“Um, A.”

“Hey, same!”

Yerim beams at him. “Oh, goody! At least we have each other.” Great minds think alike, eh.

A elevator dings, and the two first years enter, dragging their luggages into the elevator with them.

 

* * *

 

"I can't wait to unpack," Yerim says cheerily. "My parents are going to be mailing more clothes to me since everything I wanted to bring couldn't fit into two suitcases. I think they'll be coming in by the end of the week."

Chan can’t relate; everything he wanted to bring fit in his two suitcases. He also isn't sure if he's as excited as Yerim. He's not dreading it, but he can't deny that he's a little nervous; it's going to be his first time living with not one, but two roommates. Man, sexiling would be such an awkward ordeal – never mind, he's not going to entertain the subject.

“Hey, look!” Yerim nudges Chan with her elbow as they approach their rooms. “We’re going to be neighbors!”

She lets out a screech of laughter when she notices the photo taped to her door. “Oh my god, is our hall _Vine_ -themed? I got my favorite vine, bless up.”

Chan glances at the photo, then takes in the three name tags on Yerim’s door. Doyeon Kim. Yoojung Choi. Yerim Kim.

“Well, I’m gonna go unpack, so I guess I’ll see you at the hall meeting?” Yerim says, punching her room code into the keypad and nudging the door open with her foot. Immediately, a shriek emanates from inside the room, followed by a “shut _up_ Yoojung, you’re gonna scare her away!"

Yerim and Chan raise their eyebrows at each other before she enters her room, allowing the door to slam shut.

Chan turns his attention to his own door, skipping over the photo since he doesn’t recognize the Vine reference and focusing on the three name tags. Vernon Chwe. Seungkwan Boo. Chan Lee.

“Vernon Hansol Chwe, you’re insufferable!” someone, assumedly Seungkwan, screeches from inside the room.

“I’m not insufferable, I’m Vernon.”

“I can’t stand you.”

“You don’t have to stand, there’s a chair right there.”

Smiling slightly at that, Chan begins punching in the room code on the keypad.

“ _Vernon!_ ”

“Wait, I think he’s coming in.”

“Oh, finally!” Just as Chan punches in the third number of his room code, the door swings wide open, and he’s first greeted by a round-cheeked boy with chestnut brown hair who enthusiastically introduces himself as Seungkwan.

“Vernon, come meet our roommate!” Seungkwan yells over his shoulder. “Glad to meet you, we’ve been waiting for a while.”

Vernon takes his earphones out, standing up and running a hand through his jet black hair. “‘m Vernon,” he says, extending his hand to shake. Chan is surprised at how limp his handshake is.

“We’re sharing a room, so you can have the other one to yourself,” Seungkwan says, nodding to the empty room. Chan resists the urge to cheer loudly; he had no idea the dorms were going to be this nice, so this is an extremely pleasant surprise. A bathroom only he and his roomates have to share, a room to himself, and a common living room with desks and couches? Yes, please. He’s never been this excited about furniture except the first time he went to Ikea.

Chan lugs his suitcases over to the empty room and begins the dreaded process of unpacking.

 

* * *

 

Chan does believe in a God because obviously only some form of higher being could have placed Chan in probably the most chaotic freshman hall on campus.

“Alright!” someone who’s most definitely an upperclassman – because would a first year be able to be that authoritative? – stands on the armrest of a couch and yells over the din of the common room. “Alright, settle down everyone, we have a _ton_ of shit to get through and nearly not enough time. Jesus, I want to talk to whomever made this schedule.” The twenty nine other first years in the common room obey, immediately bringing the noise to a silence. Sitting on Chan’s right side, Yerim quickly replies to a friend on Snapchat before locking her phone.

A dark-haired, kind-looking boy sitting next to the upperclassman looks around at the room before giving a warm smile, his eyes crinkling. “Welcome, everyone! Hope moving in hasn’t been too awful,” he begins. “I know you all are probably tired and want to rest up before dinner – which we are having as a hall, so no running off somewhere sketchy or I will find you and be very sad – but we just want to get through some business items before we let you guys go. I’m Seokmin, by the way. I’m a sophomore, and I plan on being a history major. I’m one of your RAs for the year and am really excited to get to know all of you better!”

Wow. That’s the most Chan has heard someone talk in one go besides the valedictorian’s commencement speech at his high school graduation.

“I’m Soonyoung, your other RA and the cooler one, obviously,” the upperclassman who spoke first says, smirking as Seokmin rolls his eyes and bending down to sit on the armrest instead. “I’m a third year, and I’m a psychology major. You guys should all be psych majors, by the way, because psychology is the coolest major. History’s _boring_ , no offense.” Soonyoung cackles when Seokmin elbows his shoulder, looking very much offended.

“Also want to give a shout out to the six Korean first years in the room. Not saying that I like you already because you’re Korean, but I like you because you’re Korean.” A good number of people chuckle as Yerim and one other girl Chan doesn’t know cheer.

“Anyway! Should we do an icebreaker?” Seokmin asks.

“Icebreakers are kinda tacky, no offense,” Yerim responds. Several people nod in agreement.

“Touché. But at the very least, we should go around introducing ourselves. Let’s do…” Seokmin thinks for a moment. “Name, what you’re interested in studying, hobby, and favorite ice cream flavor. Anyone want to start?”

“I will!" Yerim says. “The name’s Yerim but you can call me anytime.” Quite a few people laugh at that, Soonyoung letting out a loud guffaw as Seokmin shoots him a startled look. “Um, I’m thinking of being a women, gender, and sexuality major. You know, I’m trying not to die at college unlike many other academically ambitious people I’ve met so far today. Hobbies? Let’s see… I like singing, listening to music, and surfing the Internet – god, saying that makes me feel so _old._ If you like memes you’re my best friend. And I’m a huge fan of mint chocolate chip and will fight anyone who says it’s gross.” When someone boos at her across the circle, she makes a V sign with two fingers and points it at her eyes before pointing it at them, to the laughter of several others.

The person on the right of Yerim goes next, continuing the circle of introductions. Chan really only pays attention to the introductions of his roommates, Yerim, and her roommates.

“I’m Yoojung! I want to major in environmental studies, maybe double major in studio art too. I like drawing, painting, dancing, and photography. And my favorite ice cream flavor would definitely have to be chocolate.”

“Doyeon. At the moment I’m most interested in art history, though that might change. I like watching movies and listening to music. I don’t really eat ice cream.”

Yoojung elbows Doyeon. “You liar, one time you ate like an entire tub of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream by yourself.”

“That was one time!” Doyeon laughs, nudging Yoojung back with her elbow.

“Get a room, y’all,” someone calls out, laughing when Doyeon and Yoojung scowl at them.

“Vernon. I’m not sure yet, maybe film and media studies. I like listening to music and watching movies. Vanilla.”

“You’re a man of few words, huh?” Soonyoung says good-naturedly. Vernon shrugs in response.

“I’m Seungkwan, nice to meet y’all! I’m planning on being a theater major. And don’t worry, I’ll remember you all when I’m on Broadway. Anyway, I like to sing, act, dance, and play basketball. Green tea is objectively the best ice cream flavor, no need to fight me on this.”

Before long, it’s Chan’s turn, and all eyes are on him now. Ugh, he’s never really loved being the center of attention. It’s as if everyone’s analyzing him, watching his every move, waiting for him to mess up. He stiffens under the perceived judgmental stares.

“Hi, I’m Chan,” he says quietly, clearing his throat and swallowing when someone calls out, “Talk louder!”. “I’m not really sure what I want to study just yet, but I might do premed. Um, I like watching movies and journaling. And my favorite ice cream flavor would have to be red bean.”

“Red bean exists?” someone asks.

Yerim snorts derisively. “Next time just say you hate Asians and go,” she replies coldly, a stark contrast to her usual sunny behavior.

“Sorry, sorry, I just didn’t know that was a thing,” they reply sheepishly, and Yerim visibly relaxes with a look of satisfaction.

Seokmin clears his throat. “Anyway,” he says, “we have a whole lot to get through, so hang in there.”

Despite the next two hours being spent on boring stuff like dorm policies and general code of conduct, Chan’s surprised to find that they go by quickly.

 

* * *

 

_YERIM: CHAN_

_Yerim: ARE YOU SLEEPING YET_

_Chan: Omg no need to yell_

_Yerim: ok ok sorry_

_Yerim: anyway wanna take a walk with me i’m bored_

_Chan: Where’s Yoojung and Doyeon?_

_Yerim: somewhere_

_Yerim: just come quick before i die_

_Chan: So dramatic_

 

“Where on earth are we going?” Chan asks, kind of concerned about his arm falling out of its socket at the rate at which Yerim is dragging him around.

“Nowhere in particular, which is the point of exploring!” Yerim says cheerfully.

“Yerim, it’s like 11pm.”

“So?”

Chan sighs. “It’s dark and cold and kinda scary.”

“Okay, fine, let’s just walk to the lake behind Pratt and come back. You haven’t been there yet, right?”

Chan shakes his head. “I didn’t even know there was a lake nearby.”

“I heard about it from some upperclassmen. Not really a popular spot, though. Apparently there’s a graveyard nearby and that gets some people spooked.”

" _Graveyard?_ "

“Shh, you’re gonna wake up the ghosts,” Yerim giggles.

“Ghosts don’t sleep,” Chan grumbles. “They aren’t even alive.”

“Whatever, smartass. Pond, then Pratt. Yeah?”

“Fine.”

As much as he wants to keep pretending he’s grumpy and annoyed with Yerim for making him walk around in sixty-degree Fahrenheit weather (which _is_ cold, mind you,) Chan is rather grateful for the rather serene ten-minute walk to Jade Pond. The hecticness of moving in, meeting around thirty people at the same time, having his first bland meal at the cafeteria (“These people don’t know how to season shit!” wailed Yerim, poking at the tragedy of a dry chicken breast on her plate,) and adjusting to a completely different, new environment was draining on all levels. Chan has only been at college for less than a day, and he feels like an entire semester has gone by already. Sleeping sounds kind of nice right now, but a gust of wind smacks him in the face, chasing any remaining thoughts of sleep away and making him wonder if some omniscient being, knowing that Chan was going to need respite from his roommates, gave him such an opportunity through their walk to the pond.

“Chan, are legs toes?” Yerim asks nonchalantly, digging her hands into her pockets.

Yeah, the calm was nice while it lasted.

“...No. God, why would you even ask such a weird question?”

Yerim shrugs. “Just wondering.”

“Try wondering more normal things for once.”

“Hey!” Yerim protests. “Wondering if legs are toes is a perfectly normal inquiry. I’m sure people are dying to know the answer.”

“I’m sure they are,” Chan responds sarcastically.

He makes a mental note to visit the pond some other time because he’s sure that he’d be able to appreciate the apparently gorgeous jade color of the pond water at a different time of day when he can actually see. Given his limited night vision, the birch trees and grasses cast moonlit shadows over the still water, creating a world of agricultural reflections that Narcissus would have loved to live in. The absence of ribbiting and cricket noises surprises Chan.

It’s very quiet. Chan appreciates quiet.

Yerim skips to the shore of the pond and scoops up some rocks from the ground. “You good at skipping rocks?”

“Never tried,” Chan says.

“Try it! It’s not that hard.” Rolling a rock around in her hand for a few seconds, Yerim flicks her wrist and sends the stone skipping across the surface of the water three times before it sinks.

“Darn, my record is seven, I think. I can do a whole lot better.” Yerim presses a rock into Chan's hand. 

Tongue sticking out in concentration, Chan flicks his wrist in an imitation of Yerim's motion... and watches his rock sink into the water with a pitiful plop. 

Yerim's raucous peals of laughter startle some crows perched nearby, sending them flying away with loud squawks. 

“Um, _rude_. I’m never taking your word for it ever again.”

"Sorry, the way that the rock just fell into the water was so funny!" 

"Ha, ha, true, very funny. Can we go back now?" 

"You're boring. We've been here for like maybe four minutes." 

Chan pouts. "Yerim, I really want to be back before midnight."

"Come on, just a few more minutes. Look at the moon, it's so pretty! And full! The moon is a lesbian goddess, and she's beautiful." 

"Yerim, I'm getting kind of uncomfortable..." Chan trails off when he notices Yerim barely paying attention to his words, her horrified stare suddenly fixated on his feet.

“What? Is there something on my shoes?”

“Chan.”

"What is it? It better not be a bug or something, these are new Nikes."

"Chan."

"I got them a week ago, I can't get them dirty now." 

" _Chan!_ "  
  
“Yes?”

“Chan, whatever you do, walk towards me and don’t look at your feet,” Yerim says slowly, her voice unusually shrill.

Yeesh, there's a time and place for everything. Why now, out of all times? “Yerim, don't joke around like that right now–"

“Chan!” Yerim snaps. “I'm literally not joking! Can you listen to me? Keep walking and don’t. Look. At. Your. Feet.”

“Okay, whatever you say,” Chan replies, squinting at her suspiciously as he turns around. He takes a step forward, his foot hitting something that almost feels like a sandbag.

"Oh my god," whispers Yerim.

And curse the reverse psychology gods, Chan’s gaze immediately flickers down to find the mysterious object, whose form seems like a human body, funny enough. Arms, legs, hands, feet–

Wait.

Chan leans in to take a closer look.

It _is_ a human body.

**Author's Note:**

> helloooo this is my first multi-chapter fic :") hope y'all enjoy! feel free to leave questions, comments, concerns!
> 
> disclaimer: characters are loosely based off of their personalities irl; i did my best to be as accurate as i can, but some things may be different from what you're expecting for the sake of the story.


End file.
